dance me through the panic
by thegothandthegeek
Summary: It's not that you don't want to justify yourself, it's that you shouldn't need to. / post-patriot acts. eric&nell.


title from "dance me to the end of love" by the civil wars (originally leonard cohen).

post-patriot acts.

* * *

**i.**

"_No plans tonight. Or any other night. For the foreseeable future."_

So, maybe that much emphasis wasn't entirely necessary, but you're determined to get your point across.

You weren't flirting with Nate, and it wasn't because of your subconscious feelings for Eric, because you don't _have_ feelings for Eric. You don't have feelings for anybody. You don't need to. You don't _want_ to. And you have to make sure that everyone else knows it. _(By everyone else, you only mean yourself. Nobody else is asking questions. Nobody else is having doubts)._

Eric's right in front of you and he brushes off your sharp-edged not-entirely-necessary comment like it's nothing, because it should be. _(He sees things as they really are, though, and he sees you putting up a weak-hearted resistance)._ He knows you aren't ready, and he knows how to leave things alone until you are. You don't know it _(or at least you don't want to)_, but he does.

He offers a simple goodnight to Hetty and Callen instead of rushing you, and you follow suit, ignoring the painful fluttering in your chest and forcing yourself to think that this is normal, you're going home alone to curl up with a book and your cat and you won't think about him from the time you leave until the time you get back. And that's normal. _(What you mean is that you want it to be. You aren't sure when you started trying to hurt him, but you are and he knows you are and you're really just hurting yourself and he's really just waiting)._

On the way out of OSP, you talk about the case, about Mia and Jessica and he could never imagine doing something so drastic as becoming a new person just to prove a point. _(Unless, of course, it was you)._ Just for a moment, you watch panic flash across his eyes and he must be thinking of something worth it. _(You, you're worth it)._ It's a very disorienting thing, re-imagining your world for the worst. You, of all people, would know.

"I would. I mean, that's what we're here for, right?" you smile, because his face is a mirror and he'll smile back, you know he will. You just want him to stop thinking about it because you'll start thinking about it and you know what thinking too much can do. _(You have to separate yourself from the cases because if you didn't you'd go insane, and you just want him to smile back)._ And he does.

But even through that smile, you can see the hint of a question forming in his eyes, behind his lips. _(You made such a huge point to say that you were alone and he wants to ask, you can tell. But he's not going to. It's all over his face, it's on the tip of his tongue, but he isn't going to)._ As you approach the parking garage, it meets your ears as "See you tomorrow?" and you nod because _of course_. There's nowhere else you would rather be, to be honest.

A very large part of you is glad, because he didn't turn you into a liar and he could have. But you're already lying to yourself and everyone else anyways, and you aren't doing a very good job. _(But you're not really lying at all only you are)._

But you absolutely do not have plans. Not tonight. Not for the rest of forever.

**ii.**

Alright, you lied. You kind of, sort of, maybe have plans. _(That's not all you lied about, but you're not going there, you can't, not now)_. This lazy evening at Eric's place wasn't scheduled in advance, so it shouldn't really count, and it's not _that _kind of thing anyway.

This is just friends, you've done this before, movies and video games and sometimes music if you're too tired to do anything else and you don't want to go home. _(Like right now, you don't want to go home right now)._ Today was a long day, a long case, and you deserve to spend a bit of time just winding down with Eric, right? Your _partner_, Eric. Just Eric, co-worker, best friend, partner Eric.

_(You wish you could stop thinking about him, you haven't always thought about him this much__, t__his is __completely__ Nate's fault. But really, you're just making excuses and lying to yourself and this can't be healthy but you can't stop)._

You've watched the entire Back to the Future trilogy _(for the millionth time)_, and both of you are too exhausted to decide on another movie, so he just turns on the stereo and lets it play. You're sitting on opposite sides of the couch now, facing each other, toe to toe. This is the closest you've been to him in a week _(the most stressful week you've had in a very long time, Nate went back to God-knows-where and left you anxiety ridden in your own skin)_, but of course, you don't notice things like that.

He's a very beautiful man, that's something you've noticed before. His eyes are closed, his head resting in his hands, and you very rarely get the chance to look at him when he's not looking back. _(Get a little closer, Nell, and maybe you would)_. He has a patient face, you think, the kind that reminds you to do basic things like eating and sleeping because you forget sometimes. And his hands are gentle, they can handle the smallest of microchips and they hack databases next to yours and occasionally, they push your hair out of your face while he tells you that it's all worth it, sometimes you save lives and sometimes you don't, but sometimes _you do_.

When you realize that he's grinning at you, obviously having opened those eyes at some point, you can feel the blush rising on your neck and you quickly find a very interesting patch of carpet to concentrate on. You were thinking about him again. And staring, this time. But it's not like you have feelings for him, no, no, he's just nice to look at. _(From an objective standpoint, he's gorgeous, and you __were __definitely just observing him objectively becaus__e you're Nell and that's what you do, objective and intellectual and that's safe, feelings don't keep you safe__)._

You _don't_ have feelings for him. Do you? No, no of course not. He's like your brother. _(No, he's not)_. There's nothing there. _(You wouldn't be blushing if there wasn't)._ Nate was just screwing with your head. _(Nell, you know him better than that, and you know yourself better than that, and really, you just know better)._ You absolutely do not have feelings for Eric.

But that doesn't explain how you ended up, of all places, in his arms.

"Dance with me." he says, and it should matter that you're all alone in his apartment but it doesn't. And when you look up and he's still smiling at you, you realize that you never had any intention of saying no. _(You would never admit it to anyone else, but you've never been good at lying to yourself and at least you can keep your own secrets)._

There's some semblance of space between you at first, with one hand in his and the other on his shoulder, his on your waist. You could still convince yourself that this is a normal thing if you wanted to, slow dancing in a dimly lit room at nearly three in the morning. Instead, you count the beats and try to avoid being drawn into the heat radiating off of him. One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four.

It's not that you don't want to justify yourself, it's that you shouldn't need to.

**iii.**

Sometimes _(like right now)_, you get caught in clouds of noise, and all you can even think is just his name, over and over and over again and _"I'm gonna stop saying Eric now,"_ and focus, Nell, focus on anything besides him, please.

He steps on the even numbers, and you love the way he's patient with you when nobody else is. _(But that doesn't mean you love __**him**__)._ And there's a part of you that hates Nate for making you pay attention, but mostly you just hate yourself. _(One, __**two**__, three, __**four**__)._ You don't know how stay still and you don't know how to stop thinking, and he's always right in your peripheral vision and you hate it. _(But really, you don't. Quite the opposite, in fact)._

You smile when he smiles, and you laugh when he laughs, and he has this way of calming you down that's almost like magic. You haven't believed in magic since you were four years old. But Eric, he's _magic_. "You can stand on my feet if you want," he whispers when your eyelids start to get heavy, but you shake your head because no matter how tired you are, that would require being way too close to him for your liking and you can't give him the wrong message.

You don't have feelings for him, you remember. You don't have feelings for him. You don't.

But eventually, the dancing turns to swaying, and you finally close your eyes and try to just stop thinking but you can't. _(You swear, you do not, cannot, by any means have any un-strictly-platonic feelings for him. But a magazine couldn't fit between the two of you right now, and that's not very platonic, is it?)_ The music is nice, and you're so exhausted, and it's almost like he's holding you up, because that's what he does, he convinces you that you're not completely insane and what would it be like, you wonder, if you ever lost him? _(Your head drops to his shoulder and you can almost hear him smiling under his breath)_.

"Nate is my cousin." you say quietly, and you have no idea where the words came from but it's too late to take them back. _(You could hear the question hanging in the air and it shouldn't be a question but it is. Was)._ You can feel his eyes on you now, lost and almost hurt and you can barely take it. You had no idea what you were doing to him. _(But you're sure he's only upset because nobody told him before, that's all)._

He pauses briefly, eyes darting across your face, and when you lift your head to look at him _(a bad, terribly bad decision)_, you wish you hadn't. _"What?"_ he asks. He's never, ever asked you to repeat yourself before. Actually, he usually knows what you're saying better than you do _(but only because he's your friend, he's your best friend)_, and this time he doesn't and you don't like this at all.

"He's my –"

"Cousin?" he cuts you off, and even now _(now when you're so close to him that you're practically one person, there's a whole room full of space here, why are you so close to him?) _he's finishing your sentences. You realize that you're holding your breath and you exhale slowly and you try to ignore the knots double-tying themselves in your stomach because that's not what's supposed to happen, none of this is supposed to happen. "I thought…"

Oh, you know what he thought, even if it wasn't until just a week ago, and he's been so strange towards you since then, always so far away, but not now. Now he's almost _too close_. And you don't have feelings for him, no, you don't.

"No, _God_, no –" the implications finally catch up to you, fully now, and it's weird, because Nate is family and _were you really flirting with him this is like the flowers all over again_ and it never completely occurred to you that you left the doors open. That you didn't just forget to close them.

And suddenly, his lips are crashing into your lips and you can feel his energy buzzing through your fingertips and why have you never done this before? But the feeling won't last, none of this will last, you know it won't. It never does. _(Then why can't you just stop, why can't you just push him away and end this before you ruin everything? Nell, this is not okay, you're only leading him on because you don't want this, not really. But oh, you really do)._

It's a fading thought in the back of your mind, that this might be a bad idea, that you might end up hurting him _(you don't want to hurt him)._ But he's the one who started it, and your mind is starting to settle down when it's always been in overdrive. _(It's nice, you think, not being overwhelmed by the thoughts and the panic and the never ending noise. You could get used to this, only you won't, you shouldn't)._ The only thing breaking the silence is his name again, but it's not such a bad thing now, it's like a fragile melody after years and years of power-ballads and death metal.

_(Maybe Nate was right)._

You barely notice his hands slipping your cardigan off of your shoulders and you really don't mind, anyway, why is it so warm in here? Your cheeks are flushed and your lungs are burning and he wasn't this close to you but now he is. His fingertips dance across your skin and you have to remind yourself that this is only temporary _(but only if you want it to be and you know that you don't)._

"I think I might be in love with you."

And you didn't mean to say that. You didn't even know until just now. But he doesn't get scared like you do _(even though there were a lot of maybes in there, you stop breathing for a second and you can't believe yourself and you're only waiting for the anxiety to set in because it always does)_, he can think of better things to occupy himself with, and he just kisses you again, and again, and again –

"I think I might love you back."

_(And it's weird, you think, that you aren't scared either. Not right now. There will be a time for that later, but for now, you just look up at him and wonder how you didn't figure this out earlier)._


End file.
